Former inmate turns minister

Darrell Tolbert was known in his neighborhood as a drug dealer until he was sent to Marion Correctional Institute on drug charges. Now, after devoting his life to God while in jail, he's known as Minister Tolbert.

PHOTOGRAPHS BY LEE FERINDEN/STAR-BANNER

BY STEPHANIE MORRISSTAR-BANNER

Published: Wednesday, April 11, 2007 at 6:30 a.m.

Last Modified: Wednesday, April 11, 2007 at 4:03 a.m.

OCALA - Darrell Tolbert wanted to stay on the straight and narrow when he was released from Marion Correctional Institute in 1999, but the road would be tougher than he had imagined.
He knew he never wanted to sell drugs again, but the fast money found in the street life was enticing and easily eclipsed the $7 an hour he was earning as a cabinet maker.
To compound the matter, child support payments claimed most of the check he brought home, leaving him with little left at the end of each month.
But every day he reminded himself: "My worst day out here is better than my best day in jail."
During his stint behind bars, Tolbert started nurturing a relationship with God. He started a ministry with another inmate, Noble Washington. They passed out tracts and served as models for Christian living.
Tolbert also wrote a book, "Why Am I in Prison?" to help inmates understand God has a purpose for their lives in spite of their situation, he said.
For Tolbert, staying out of trouble on the outside meant anchoring himself to the purpose God had given him on the inside: To reach out to society's outcasts and show them God loves them - and he does, too.
"Most of these people just need to know that somebody loves them," Tolbert said of the drug addicts, former drug addicts, prostitutes and ex-convicts who flock to the neighborhood outreach event he hosts once a month along with Washington, who was released from prison a year after Tolbert.
Their endeavor is called L-Jireh (The Lord Will Provide) Behind the Enemy Lines Rescue Ministry.
Each month, the two men - along with other volunteers, many of whom also are ex-cons or former addicts - set up microphones and loud speakers in drug- and crime-infested neighborhoods and preach the message of Jesus Christ.
The free food and donated clothes is often what draws spectators, but Tolbert and Washington are adamant about emphasizing change.
"I sold dope out here on these streets," Tolbert said. "I was always a people person, but God was preparing me to be able to minister to these same people."
"Pretty Boy T" is what the neighborhood folks called Tolbert when he was selling drugs. Now, as the leader of L-Jireh, they call him Minister Tolbert.
He used to be Mary Harvey's drug dealer. The name neighborhood folks gave her was simple, "Prostitute Mary."
Old track marks speckling the inside of her arms and a healed bullet wound on the side of her neck confirm a hard life. A brain aneurism that left her in a coma for 3 months, and a subsequent stroke, has left her speech slow and childlike.
"I ain't had much schooling," she said. "I was a child on drugs. I wasn't around nothing but pimps and hos."
Harvey is no longer a prostitute. Once a month, she attends the outdoor church service hosted by L-Jireh.
Her smile is soft, and she speaks confidently about the change in her life she attributes to Jesus.
"I get joy seeing what God has done for me .Ê.Ê. and him," she said, speaking of Tolbert's switch from drug dealer to minister.
Tolbert and Washington's ministry approach is hands-on.
"It's a hard ministry unless you have a passion for it," Tolbert said.
"We don't care if they have the AIDS virus or a bottle of liquor in their hands. We're not biased. We still love them," said Washington.
L-Jireh's motto is: "We bring the church to you."
"Our life is going into the streets," Washington said.Stephanie Morris may be reached at 352-867-4119 or stephanie.morris@starbanner.com.

OCALA - Darrell Tolbert wanted to stay on the straight and narrow when he was released from Marion Correctional Institute in 1999, but the road would be tougher than he had imagined.<BR>
He knew he never wanted to sell drugs again, but the fast money found in the street life was enticing and easily eclipsed the $7 an hour he was earning as a cabinet maker.<BR>
To compound the matter, child support payments claimed most of the check he brought home, leaving him with little left at the end of each month.<BR>
But every day he reminded himself: "My worst day out here is better than my best day in jail."<BR>
During his stint behind bars, Tolbert started nurturing a relationship with God. He started a ministry with another inmate, Noble Washington. They passed out tracts and served as models for Christian living.<BR>
Tolbert also wrote a book, "Why Am I in Prison?" to help inmates understand God has a purpose for their lives in spite of their situation, he said.<BR>
For Tolbert, staying out of trouble on the outside meant anchoring himself to the purpose God had given him on the inside: To reach out to society's outcasts and show them God loves them - and he does, too.<BR>
"Most of these people just need to know that somebody loves them," Tolbert said of the drug addicts, former drug addicts, prostitutes and ex-convicts who flock to the neighborhood outreach event he hosts once a month along with Washington, who was released from prison a year after Tolbert.<BR>
Their endeavor is called L-Jireh (The Lord Will Provide) Behind the Enemy Lines Rescue Ministry.<BR>
Each month, the two men - along with other volunteers, many of whom also are ex-cons or former addicts - set up microphones and loud speakers in drug- and crime-infested neighborhoods and preach the message of Jesus Christ.<BR>
The free food and donated clothes is often what draws spectators, but Tolbert and Washington are adamant about emphasizing change.<BR>
"I sold dope out here on these streets," Tolbert said. "I was always a people person, but God was preparing me to be able to minister to these same people."<BR>
"Pretty Boy T" is what the neighborhood folks called Tolbert when he was selling drugs. Now, as the leader of L-Jireh, they call him Minister Tolbert.<BR>
He used to be Mary Harvey's drug dealer. The name neighborhood folks gave her was simple, "Prostitute Mary."<BR>
Old track marks speckling the inside of her arms and a healed bullet wound on the side of her neck confirm a hard life. A brain aneurism that left her in a coma for 3 months, and a subsequent stroke, has left her speech slow and childlike.<BR>
"I ain't had much schooling," she said. "I was a child on drugs. I wasn't around nothing but pimps and hos."<BR>
Harvey is no longer a prostitute. Once a month, she attends the outdoor church service hosted by L-Jireh.<BR>
Her smile is soft, and she speaks confidently about the change in her life she attributes to Jesus.<BR>
"I get joy seeing what God has done for me .Ê.Ê. and him," she said, speaking of Tolbert's switch from drug dealer to minister.<BR>
Tolbert and Washington's ministry approach is hands-on.<BR>
"It's a hard ministry unless you have a passion for it," Tolbert said.<BR>
"We don't care if they have the AIDS virus or a bottle of liquor in their hands. We're not biased. We still love them," said Washington.<BR>
L-Jireh's motto is: "We bring the church to you."<BR>
"Our life is going into the streets," Washington said.<BR>
<i>Stephanie Morris may be reached at 352-867-4119 or stephanie.morris@starbanner.com.</i>